


A Risk Worth Taking

by Scruggzi



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Phryne pov, Post Mistletoe smut, fluffy with a side of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 16:44:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17410538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scruggzi/pseuds/Scruggzi
Summary: After the Christmas in July party at the end of Murder Under the Mistletoe. Phryne has had enough of waiting for Jack to make a move so she decides to move things along herself.





	A Risk Worth Taking

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a rewatch just before Christmas when I realised I'd never written smut during cannon so I thought I'd give it a go.

“Hemi-parasitic, of the genus viscum.”

There was no way on earth anyone should be able to make that sentence one of the most seductive things Phryne had heard in her life. Singers and poets had penned verses for her for Christ’s sake. She’d been wooed by charming, and delightfully degenerate men from every continent and still, obscure horticultural trivia growled out by a dour policeman from the city she was born in, apparently held the power to make her weak at the knees. It was ridiculous, but evidently, she didn’t get any say in the matter; her body and apparently her heart were doing the thinking for her.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

She was watching his lips. Could almost taste them, feel that firm, soft skin against her own. She could lean in, take what they both desperately wanted. Aunt Prudence be damned…

“How about another song?” The woman in question appeared to have objections to her niece ravishing a man on the piano whilst she was trying to enjoy her brandy. Spoilsport.

_Later._

It was a word unspoken but unmistakable, passing between them just before they all joined together in song. Phryne smiled, there would be time enough to address the Jack situation, and she wouldn’t exchange this moment, with her whole family gathered together safe and well, for all the men in Moscow.

***

It was later.

Cec, who was mostly sober, had poured the inebriated remains of Bert and Aunt Prudence into the back of the cab and dropped them at their respective homes. Dot and Hugh were in the kitchen enjoying a goodnight cocoa and Jane and Mr Butler had both retired for the evening.

Phryne and Jack were as alone as they were likely to be, and Phryne for one was sick of waiting around for him to make a move.

The Inspector was leaning against the mantel, his cheeks a little flushed from the sherry, and the whisky which had followed the sherry. He made a strange tableau, his casual stance was so relaxed and at home in her space, but his eyes were burning, dancing in the firelight; fear and longing waring with each other in the tiny creases in their corners and the dilation of his pupils.

“Nightcap?”

She sashayed over to the drinks cart and poured them each another measure of whiskey, his warm fingers brushed against hers as she handed it to him. That slight touch was enough to send a delicious shiver up her spine. This situation had gone on long enough; there were no murderers, ex-wives or well-meaning family members to get in the way.

She went in for the kill.

“So, Jack, do you have any Christmas wishes as yet unfulfilled?” her smouldering eyes lingered pointedly on his lips as she spoke.

She looked up, meeting his gaze and the intensity of his expression hit her like a shot of whisky. She understood his reservations; his concern about risk when he turned down her invitation in the mountains had not only been about the lurking murderer. They could lose everything; their friendship, the partnership which had come to mean so much to both of them, they could do untold damage to each other if they were not careful.

Could anything be worth that risk?

_Yes._

She could have lost him in that horrible mine; it had ended up as just another lump on his thankfully hard head, but it could have been much more serious. And now they were both here, alive and alone and what was the point in loving someone this much and pretending otherwise? It was a lie of omission she no longer felt she could live with.

He was wearing that very slight smile, the one you had to know him well to be able to spot, but when he spoke his voice was low and entirely serious.

“Just the one, Miss Fisher.”

And he kissed her.

The only other time Jack Robinson had kissed her had been a chaos of adrenaline. Fear and hate and defiance against Rene Dubois had been churning in her gut, threatening to overwhelm her. And then Jack had been there. Had swooped in, in a manner entirely unlike an honourable Senior Detective Inspector, she would never have predicted it of him. Perhaps that was the point, he had intended it as a distraction. After the momentary shock, she had clung to that kiss like a life raft, letting it fill her, ground her in the now as the world kept threatening to slip away. For a moment after they had broken apart, they had just looked at each other, stunned, neither able to comprehend what they had just experienced. ‘Distraction’ didn’t even begin to describe it. After it became clear he was not about to repeat the manoeuvre, Phryne had decided to dismiss it as a fluke, a product of circumstance.

Apparently, she had been wrong.

In her experience, men often kissed as a means of seduction, an enjoyable prelude to more carnal pleasures; their hands would wander, their minds already on the next steps of the dance. Phryne had always apreciated that directness in a lover, but now she felt she might have been missing out.

Jack’s kisses were an end unto themselves. All encompassing, demanding, intoxicating. He was holding her head, his fingers brushing lightly through her hair and across her neck, the tingle against her scalp made her shiver in delight as he licked her tongue into his mouth, inviting her to taste him. His other hand stayed still and steady at her waist, toying ever so lightly with the golden silk of her gown. She could feel the heat of his palm through the soft fabric, a tantalising tease that somehow made her knees weak as she breathed his name against his lips.

They drew back, both breathing heavily, Phryne felt dazed, drunk with emotions too large for words. Jack looked a little punch drunk, his solemn, loving eyes fixed on hers, his expression one of a man finally willing to let go. Her hands had found their way under his jacket, but she had been too absorbed in kissing him to undo so much as a button. His armour remained stubbornly intact. She withdrew a hand and placed it over his heart, she could feel the rapid thump of it even through his layers.

“And you, Phryne? Do you have any Christmas wishes left unfulfilled?”

 God the sound of her name in his mouth was like sin itself. No wonder he was so sparing with it.

“Hundreds.” She breathed, her own voice sounding small and alien in her ears. “But they all start the same way.”

“Is that so?”

Fuck, that deep, bass rumble and he was smiling again; it seemed he had decided she was worth the risk after all. She wondered how far he would be willing to take this. He could be an infuriatingly cautious man, but she got the sense that something had shifted between them. He did not appear to be about to pull away.

“You join me upstairs and…” she tilted her head, coy, daring him to fill in the blank for himself but he wouldn’t budge.

“and?”

Being a woman of action as much as words Phryne opted to show rather than tell. This time it was she who leant in to kiss him, and this time her hands did not stay still, her palm smoothing down to cup his arse – _oh she was going to have to explore that in more detail later_ – pulling him closer, pressing her body into his. She felt as much as heard his hum of approval against her lips as she began to explore his back, his chest, the taught muscles of his belly, firm beneath too many layers of wool and cotton. She could feel his smile against her lips as his hands moved lower too, caressing her silk covered buttocks, stroking her arm, sliding up her side so he was just below the swell of her breast. Phryne could feel the rise of Jack’s cock where her body was pressed in close and, not wanting to squander an advantage she ground her hips against his, swallowing the vibrations as he moaned into her mouth.

“Upstairs, Jack.”

If questioned she would not have admitted that it was a plea, but it was. Luckily, he was either gracious enough not to mention it or too far gone to care; his pupils were dilated, and he looked raw, cracked open with want, his hair rumpled where her hands had run through it and a sizable bulge in his trousers. _Oh yes that definitely merited further investigation._ He gave a curt nod, which was apparently all he was capable of in his current state and she all but dragged him to the top of the stairs and into her bedroom. 

As soon as the door was shut behind them Phryne found herself pressed gently but firmly into the smooth wood, Jack’s lips on hers, one hand cushioning her head, the other tracing up the bare skin of her arm. His fingers deftly removing her wrap, leaving her shoulders bare. His lips trailed lower, along her neck, across her décolletage, a series of tiny kisses burning across her skin.

“Jaaack,” she exhaled his name, shivering in pleasure as he brushed a thumb lightly over her nipple.

She gave herself over entirely to the blissful sensation of his lips and hands, strong, confident movements that flowed in time with her ragged breathing; rewarding her moans with his tongue, with stronger touches, the light scrape of teeth. She could feel him whispering her name into her skin as he kissed up to her shoulder where the thin, golden straps of her dress were tied.

“May I?” he had inserted a finger under the silken knot and slid it ever so slightly down her shoulder.

He was smirking at her. Well there was no way he was getting away with that without consequences.

“Only if you use your teeth.” She parried, her eyes sparkling in challenge.

Jack tilted his head in acknowledgement and bent his mouth to her shoulder, letting his warm breath ghost across her skin as he took the tie between his teeth. Never breaking eye contact with her, he tugged, leaving the dress hanging loose. His hand made its way inside the slit, stroking over the creamy satin of her slip, cupping her breast as he kissed his way across to the other shoulder and repeated the manoeuvre, freeing the last tangle of ribbon with his other hand.

The golden dress fluttered down to the floor leaving Phryne in a champagne slip, trimmed in ivory lace. The rough texture of Jack’s woollen jacket and waistcoat awakened her to the fact that he was still fully dressed. An unpardonable oversight that would need to be remedied immediately.

“You’re a little overdressed, Inspector.”

Jack glanced down to where she suddenly had him by the tie, as if to confirm her statement, then flicked his eyes up, amused. An amusement that wavered to shock then naked hunger as she whipped the tie off and began to work on his buttons. She got him down to his shirt sleeves quickly, smoothing and stroking across the planes of his chest as she did so, then without warning snapped his braces against his chest making him gasp. He looked momentarily surprised but did not object, far from it. The expression on his face was practically feral with want. How delightful.

“You dispense with these, I’ll be back in just a moment.”

Phryne snagged her pessary in its black case from her dressing table and sashayed into her bathroom to insert it. She caught her face in the mirror, her lipstick smudged, hair rumpled. She grinned in delight at the visible evidence of Jack’s seduction. He really was very good at this. She couldn’t wait to find out what else he had up his sleeve – or down his trousers for that matter.

She inserted her Dutch cap, fingers stroking lovingly over her dripping flesh and decided that her knickers, fetching as they were, were an unnecessary addition and put them aside to wash. For good measure she removed her smudged make up at the little sink; this bathroom really had been a worthwhile investment, perhaps Jack would be interested in sharing a bath with her later…

Lost in happy possibilities she wandered back into the bedroom and stopped short. She only just managed to avoid letting her mouth hang open at the sight that greeted her. Jack Robinson was led on her bed, one arm propped casually behind his head, stark naked, his mouth-watering cock standing hard and proud between his thighs.

_Christ he was delicious._

There had been perhaps a hint of tension in his eyes, sex and nakedness were vulnerable places for him in a way they had never been for her, Phryne knew. But as his eyes moved across her face, she could see the tension dissipate, replaced by a loving softness that went so far beyond sex, pulling at feelings Phryne was not yet entirely comfortable with. It was exciting, dangerous, something potent and new and real.

A risk.

A challenge.

And she never could resist a challenge.

He extended a hand; there was a slight crinkle to his eyes and tilt to his lips, so much emotion in such tiny movements of his face. He was like a puzzle she might spend the rest of her life solving and never tire of. She shivered at the thought, uncertain if the cause was fear or excitement, perhaps a heady cocktail of the two.

“Come here,” he growled, the low rasp of his voice vibrating across her skin, making her shiver in anticipation.

“Is that an order, Inspector?” she smirked; still determined to give as good as she got – if not better.

She took his hand and let him pull her onto the bed, straddling his naked hips and letting the wet petals of her sex brush against the hard length of his erection, loving the way he gasped, gripping her hips, encouraging her to do it again. Having finally agreed to cross this line, he was clearly not intending to hold back.

He shook his head slightly at her question. “It can’t have been an order, Miss Fisher, you obeyed it.”

He was smirking at her and she felt the need to lower her head and kiss all witty retorts right out of his far-too-tempting mouth. Her eager hands were finally able to explore the warm planes and ridges of bare flesh so long denied her. His hands were roaming under the satin of her slip, cupping her backside, encouraging her movements as she rubbed the swollen nub of her clitoris against him. The sensation was incredible, he was so solid and warm, and the sounds he made; low, hedonistic moans of want and need as he luxuriated in her, his cheeks flushed, his eyes wild.

She could feel the tingle, the flush of pleasure building up, and why deny herself now she finally had him exactly where she wanted him. Well _almost_. She flicked her hips just a little and sank onto him, the sensation beyond exquisite, especially because it was accompanied by a loud _‘FUCK!’_ from her dour inspector that went straight to her core, tipping her over into bliss as she pulsed gently against him, moaning his name.

She hummed a laugh into his mouth, kissing him clumsily and licking the sweat from his clenched jaw. She could feel him trembling beneath her, still holding on. He was such a gentleman, she would have understood if he had come with her – it must have been a while for him after all. Even so she couldn’t resist teasing him a little.

“I’ve never heard such language from you, Jack.”

“You didn’t seem to mind.”

“Definitely not. Seeing you let go…it’s wonderful.”

“Really? Well in that case…”

Without warning he flipped her onto her back, still inside her and began to thrust in steady, even strokes, a lot like his kisses; strong, thorough and deliberate. Her orgasm had barely had time to dissipate and already she was building to another, something full and deep that would leave her dazed and trembling.

She saw the moment when his control slipped, she didn’t think she would ever forget it, this first time of what would surely be many, many more. Too many to count if she had any say in the matter. His hips stuttered, and he bit his lip, but it wasn’t enough to keep the sound of her name silent as he poured himself into her. She hooked her legs around his hips and palmed his arse, taking him deeper as he continued to thrust through his climax and… _oh fuck, oh fuck, Jack, Jaaaaack, Jaaaaaack!_

He collapsed onto his elbows, utterly spent and so beautiful it made her want to cry. _What on Earth had this man done to her?_ His head was nestled between her breasts, and it was some moments before he lifted it, kissing his way lazily up to her lips, his dreamy, contented expression one she had never seen him wear before – not even in the presence of a good dinner. He made to move away but she held him close, not willing to be parted from him just yet.

“Stay,” she whispered, he nodded, his face telling her clearly that he would stay forever if she asked him to.

It was such a temptation, such a terrible risk, to love someone this much.

She shook the feeling off, switching off the lights then climbing under the covers for more kisses and the gorgeous sensation of his arms around her and his naked skin against hers.

“Was it worth the risk, Jack?” she asked, sleepily, stroking the smooth skin of his arm.

“Always,” he whispered, soft as a secret “and I’m not done with you yet, I still have hundreds of Christmas wishes to fulfil.”

“Mmm. I’ll hold you to that in the morning.”

Invisible in the darkness – or perhaps not, Jack had very good night vision – Phryne smiled so widely she could feel the apples of her cheeks pressing into his chest where she lay snuggled on top of him. She reached for his hand, holding it close to her chest so he could feel the rapid beating of her heart, hoping he would understand.

Forever could take care of itself, for now she was just happy he was here.


End file.
